


in between the lines

by SheWhoWalksUnseen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psych (TV) Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mentioned Pennywise (IT), Past Abuse, Richie Not Coping, aka Benverly Hanbrough and a liiiittle bit of Stanpat, but he's human this time dw....and also a serial killer/kidnapper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWhoWalksUnseen/pseuds/SheWhoWalksUnseen
Summary: Sure, maybe Tozier was pretending for a living, and maybe the lying - because hehadto be, much as he astounded and irritated Eddie at great lengths, he had to be lying because psychics didn’t exist and that was that - would never stop annoying him, but Eddie couldn’t help but watch him a little closer than he used to, watching him wave off quiet remarks about sleep from Ben and shut himself down behind all the walls he needed until people stopped looking his way. Eddie wasn’t a psychic but he knew how to read people just fine, and some part of him that held onto the same desire he’d had as a kid to run off and live in his fantasies where everything was different and safe wanted nothing more than to nudge Tozier and say,It’s okayand leave it at that.Or, Eddie becomes a carpool mom, and Richie is 100%, without a doubt, lying.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 43





	in between the lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentMaryMargaretSkitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMaryMargaretSkitz/gifts).



> Kate: _Hey, here's a whole episode from our Psych au for your birthday! It's got serial killers and pining and a bittersweet ending and all the goods!_  
>  Me, sweating and hiding this fic doc behind my back: _Hahaha, wow, incredible, it's like you read my mind!_
> 
> Okay, but in all honesty, Kate, no, I did _not_ know you were writing that but please know that I was crying laughing the moment I realized what episode you'd written for. We truly shared that braincell to write these fics, huh?
> 
> Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you love this because it was a lot of fun to write, even if most of it came out of me at three in the morning, because the thought of that damn car scene you mentioned on a whim would not leave me and I ran with it. Love you <3
> 
> For those unaware of what this is, Kate and I have been brainstorming a Psych au for months now and this is one of two end-products so far. All you really need to know is Richie's a psychic for the police, he's not _really_ psychic, and everyone but he and Ben works at the precinct.
> 
> Enjoy.

For most of his childhood, Eddie liked to play pretend. Every kid did at his age, it wasn’t anything remarkably uncommon. But not every boy was ushered inside at a moment’s notice after getting paper cuts on his fingertips or scrapes across his knees that barely drew a drop of blood, a mother’s wailing and fussing a soundtrack he learned to either attempt to quieten or tune out entirely.

Neither worked, of course. Sonia Kaspbrak bore a pair of lungs on her that could wake the dead. She wasn’t born a soft-spoken woman, even in her gentler moments where she hugged him tight and murmured platitudes he desperately wanted to believe about how she’d protect him against the world and how he might be a delicate boy, carved of porcelain and fragile enough to shatter with one wrong move, but mothers were built of stronger stuff when it came to protecting their children. Mothers were the armor around them, always present, never letting more than a stray dent or bruise unnerve them because if they let their children get hurt, what kind of mothers were they? Eddie never questioned why he needed such armor in the first place; he simply nodded against her stomach and buried his face further into her dress, his stomach aching from mingled relief and shame the older he got into these lectures.

He wondered sometimes, looking back on his childhood, if she meant that “armor” she claimed was a strength came from an emotional or physical trial of will. He didn’t doubt that his mother could’ve shielded him from harm if she dared try, and the mental image of her in a crisp black suit wearing aviators and an earpiece was very amusing even now. Maybe she’d screech and shove him behind her at any sign of a physical altercation, hissing, “The baby bird has left the nest, I repeat, the baby bird has _left the nest_.”

He didn’t think she meant that kind of strength, though, not all the time. His mother kept him away from the world whenever she could, like a sullen Rapunzel locked in his bedroom lying facedown in his newly washed sheets, but she never exerted much strength to drag him away unless absolutely necessary. What she _was_ good at was using her words, assuring Eddie of his delicacy and how much she loved him, twisting her dress in her hands as she cried when he tried to get in a word edgewise. He wouldn’t understand what crocodile tears were until about when he reached high school, but he remembered with crystal clarity the splotchy cheeks and sobs and how horrified his mother was at his disobedience and how he could ever think of playing in the dirt and mulch when all she wanted was to keep him safe, and didn’t he want her to be happy and safe too, what kind of son wouldn’t want his mother happy?

Of course he did. Of course he wanted her to be happy. Yes, of course, he loved her. It was a mantra Eddie grew used to, whether he meant it or not. He must have believed it for a time; he remembered loving his mother regardless of the way she made him feel, regardless of the sinking pit in his stomach and how his eyes pricked with tears if she raised her voice too loud.

But, the thing was, a younger Eddie hadn’t known love wasn’t meant to be armor around your heart and limbs, protecting but also isolating you from the good and the bad the world had to offer. It’d taken decades of blocking and unblocking and finally cutting off contact altogether with his mother, as well as a short-lived marriage with a woman Eddie pretended he felt more for than he really did that left no parties involved happy, for Eddie to realize he was doing something wrong.

Well, maybe it wasn’t his fault. Lou - his lovely and far too patient therapist - liked reminding him seeking comfort in familiar situations and people wasn’t his fault. “Sometimes we’re too close to the truth to notice something’s wrong,” she’d told him once, giving him a crooked smile as he tried not to shrink like a sulky toddler in his chair.

If she heard Eddie dry-heaving in the bathroom ten minutes after their session ended, she never said a word about it. To his face, at least. She had a poker face that would make Bev jealous.

Despite his mother’s coddling and wailing and the general unease that surrounded the very idea of setting foot outside under her watch, though, Eddie often wished he could run away and play, whether with friends he never seemed to hold onto or on his own. The specifics of the daydream changed every now and then: sometimes he’d be a superhero, like the ones in the comics he smuggled under his bed, or perhaps a knight who’d ride out under the cover of twilight to slay a dragon. Something about the fantasy, the simplicity of the idea, sent butterflies through his stomach, curious and warm. If he examined the feeling for too long, he wound up needing a puff from his inhaler.

Eddie wasn’t much of a hero nowadays, even without the armor and cape he’d donned in his fantasies.

His job played no part in this: he was under no illusions that being a cop meant he was some heroic idol, a paragon of society who got to wear a badge and flaunt authority for no fucking rhyme or reason. He wasn’t “good” because of his job - half the time he hardly believed he was good in his own apartment, glaring at his faulty Keurig and wishing he wasn’t so goddamn lonely. He was lucky to be part of a precinct with tolerant coworkers and friends, the latter a revelation he’d only come to rather recently. Mike, Bill, even Chief Uris, who didn’t like to be referred to as anything less but still gave Eddie a small smile when he needed it most. Not to mention the fact that Eddie wasn’t sure what he’d do without Bev as his partner, quite honestly, and for as much slack as they gave each other in their snippiest moods, he’d come to think of her as the best friend he’d ever had. Sonia Kaspbrak would’ve swooned on the spot if she could see him now.

Still, all his efforts at playing pretend as a child seemed for naught when it came down to handling the cases they’d been dealt recently, all stress and pressure pounding on his skull like a jackhammer even when he tried utilizing those breathing methods Lou suggested for his temper and anxiety. The Pennywise case in particular - or, the Clown Killer case before that, he still remembered rolling his eyes over what should’ve been a copycat coming off of that serial killer’s trail because Henry Bowers was well-known by now - nagged at Eddie in his darkest moments, bringing back unwanted flashes of clocktowers and rope burns stark against Bev’s wrists as she clung to his collar and finally broke down sobbing. He shuddered every time he thought about that night, how the fear churned in his stomach and all he registered in the numb aftermath was how odd it was to see his partner cry for the first time, which easily turned to unbridled fury once he had time to slow down and lie on the couch in his apartment, utterly exhausted.

Fucking serial killers, thinking they were some kind of godsend to society because they could play mind games, like this was a low-budget TV show where someone was meant to die every other week.

Then again, if that were the case, maybe Richie Tozier would’ve been one of the first to be targeted, more so than he was already.

He really didn’t know what to think of Tozier sometimes. At first, he’d simply despised him, seethed every time he walked into a room or lounged on Eddie’s desk with that smug smile in his faded Apple Jacks t-shirt before firing off nonsense predictions to send everyone on a wild goose chase. If his mother would have hated his “involvement” with Bev, she’d likely have a heart attack in the presence of Tozier, though maybe not before firing off some cutting remarks about psychics and their charlatan ways and how all they wanted were your money and attention.

Technically, Eddie thought with a shred of amusement, she wasn’t wrong. Even if Tozier wasn’t a psychic. Which he was _not_ , no matter he claimed in those fits of his.

Eddie hadn’t imagined the man would stick around long, maybe a year before the novelty wore off and even Bev and Bill, who seemed the most adamant believers at times of his “gift”, would be ushering Tozier out the door with his last paycheck and a half-hearted goodbye. It would be ridiculous for him to remain any longer, as much help as he did provide in solving cases, and there was no need to delay the inevitable.

But Richie Tozier hadn’t left. In fact, he’d stayed far longer than Eddie predicted, _years_ longer, and would probably - much to Eddie’s reluctance - be staying for years to come. If anything, the Pennywise case proved that.

Eddie didn’t like to think about the drawn, tight look on Tozier’s face throughout the phone call, Ben’s hand clasped on his shoulder like an anchor in a storm, as if he were afraid his best friend would drift away and break upon the rocks without him there. Ben Hanscom, of all people, who would plate the moon and the stars and the whole Milky Way galaxy on a silver platter for Beverly Marsh if she allowed him to, who was shaking almost as bad as Tozier throughout the call, listening to the teasing and the singsong voice of the goddamn clown as it mocked them. Something about the white rage in the pair’s eyes, for their friends, for the people they loved (he tried not to wince at a months-past memory of Tozier bringing his boyfriend around the precinct, showing him off like he always did for his “psychic visions”), made Eddie’s gut clench. He’d never actually seen either of them get _angry_ before, not the kind of anger that wrought terrible silence from them both and left everyone else twitching in unease.

It’d been two weeks since the incident, though, which meant two weeks since Bev took time off to take care of herself for a while in the aftermath, and two weeks of Ben visiting her and drooping visibly every time he caught sight of her empty desk in the precinct, and two weeks of Eddie snapping at anyone who so much as cut him at line at the water fountain.

Two weeks since he’d seen Richie Tozier do more than offer even shittier jokes than usual and laugh like the world was ending and he couldn’t help but chuckle over how _funny_ that was.

Granted, he could be misinterpreting said jokes and laughs. Eddie didn’t claim to be an expert on the resident psychic, no matter how many knowing looks Bev and Bill gave him whenever he brought the man up in conversation. Maybe Tozier was coping just fine and Eddie was being - being _weird_ about this whole debacle for no reason other than boredom and how hard he was trying to avoid thoughts like _what if Bev never comes back, what if the clown comes back, what if it comes for someone else next, what if -_

But.

_But._

Eddie used to be good at playing pretend. The signs were laid out in front of him, pieces of a puzzle he didn’t think he’d ever fully figure out when Tozier kept changing up his act: the barely-there grin, the constant hovering near his desk and Bev’s empty one, his even more restless nature than usual, the way Ben had to shut down a few of his jokes with concern written in the creases of his own features. Tozier was more machine than man these days, working on cases whenever he could and cracking off quips at the appropriate moments, if not quicker than he used to.

Sure, maybe Tozier was pretending for a living, and maybe the lying - because he had to be, much as he astounded and irritated Eddie at great lengths, he _had_ to be lying because psychics didn’t exist and that was that - would never stop annoying him, but Eddie couldn’t help but watch him a little closer than he used to, watching him wave off quiet remarks about sleep from Ben and shut himself down behind all the walls he needed until people stopped looking his way. Eddie wasn’t a psychic but he knew how to read people just fine, and some part of him that held onto the same desire he’d had as a kid to run off and live in his fantasies where everything was different and safe wanted nothing more than to nudge Tozier and say, _It’s okay_ and leave it at that _._

Either way, it didn’t surprise him too much when Eddie left the Derry precinct late one night, humming to himself and already digging in his pants pocket to find his car keys, and the first person he spotted, sitting on the steps and shaking his head at something, was Richie Tozier.

Well, that was a lie - Eddie did draw up short, startled, almost tripping down the steps himself before he lowered his foot. He’d seen Ben leave over an hour ago, murmuring something about needing to hurry to a family dinner. He had just assumed Tozier had gone with him, which was a little short-sighted of him since he couldn’t actually recall if Tozier had done more than walk him out. The precinct certainly had gotten quieter without his shouting and cackling ringing down the hall; any quiet these days could be equated to an absence from the resident psychic, in Eddie’s mind at least.

What was he doing hanging around the front steps, though? It wasn’t like he was some high schooler loitering after school let out waiting for mommy or daddy to pick him up, carless and bored out of his mind. Eddie cocked his head at the back of Tozier’s tangled mass of curls, taking in his hunched shoulders and the softness of his voice. Talking to himself, perhaps? The petty thought of _Probably uses 3-in-1 shampoo, what an idiot, how does he even look like that when he rolls out of bed every morning to hurry over and annoy us_ darted across his brain so fast he wasn’t sure if he didn’t say it out loud. Then, just as quick and overwhelming: _Look like_ what _, Eddie?_

Nope. Not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. Eddie sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself.

“I was hoping Mike was joking about you sleeping in the bushes on your days off, you know,” he said, and it took all his effort not to laugh when Tozier jerked around, eyes widening for a fraction of a second - _yeah,_ psychic his _ass_. “You camping out on weekdays too now?”

“Eddie Spaghetti!” Tozier leaned back to prop himself up on one elbow, beaming right on cue. It was strange to watch Tozier rearrange his features in front of him with unusual care, deft invisible fingers raising the corners of his mouth here and there to form smiles and plucking every now and then at the crinkles around his left eye. None of the open delight reached his eyes. “I’ll say, I didn’t hear you sneak over on little ol’ me. You got a real career as a Bond villain. Light on your feet and all.”

“Obviously, or you’re just deaf.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “You zoning out over there?”

Tozier opened his mouth but his smile wavered and he lifted off his elbow to gesture for Eddie to be quiet. Eddie nearly bristled and marched over to tell him off, because _really_? Who was he to shush Eddie when he ran his mouth like a goddamn -

Then Eddie noticed the phone in his other hand, pressed firmly against his left ear, and he mumbled a soft, “Oh.”

Okay, that made more sense than Tozier talking to himself. And he felt a little like a jackass for interrupting his conversation just because he’d - what? Wanted to rile Tozier up?

“No, I didn’t have time to mute - really? Yes, yes, I’m _fine_.” Tozier’s shoulders started to hunch again, his brow furrowing. “I’ll be - no, _Dad_ , stop. I’m leaving now. Got it? Tell Benny boy to stop worrying his precious abs off and say hi to his sister for me.” He paused. “Hmm, maybe that’s still too soon, you’re right. Okay! Okay, I’m - _goodbye_.”

“No ride home from band practice?” Eddie joked half-heartedly as the phone was lowered and Tozier let his head smack (gently) off the stone. Frowning didn’t suit him, Eddie decided, and that earlier curiosity returned to niggle at his gut as he traced the harsh lines around Tozier’s dark eyes with his own gaze, the bags he hadn’t taken note of until now that seemed so black against pale skin, brutal shadows that could’ve been a second pair of glasses under already enormous frames.

Tozier snorted but didn’t budge from his odd spread-eagle position across the steps. “You’re full of good ones tonight, aren’t ya, Eds?”

“Hard not to when someone’s making it real easy.”

The frown deepened, which was the opposite of Eddie’s intention. Not that he _had_ intentions other than reaching his car and getting home so he could try and beat his insomnia to a good night of sleep for once these last three days.

He should be going. The metal of the car keys dug into the palm of his hand in his pocket the longer he stood here, feeling rather like a loitering teenager himself.

“Guess I am,” Tozier muttered, low enough he had to strain to hear him.

“You’re what?”

“Easy.”

Eddie blinked. The keys dug in deeper. _What the fuck._ “Um. Well.”

“But!” Again, Tozier slipped into that bright-as-ever persona, blinding grin aimed right at Eddie as if to scream _Did you miss me?_ “I am far too tired to keep up with what the fuck is happening right now so I won’t hold you up any longer, you crazy kiddo. Got a nice glass of wine or scotch waiting for you I’m sure.”

“How did you - I’m not going home to drink, but the fact that you know what’s in my fridge is disturbing.“ He bit his lip. Tozier was already slumping back onto the steps, chuckling at Eddie’s sharp tone. “Are you seriously going to sleep here? Do you even know how gross these steps are? My shoes have been where your face is.”

“Kinky.”

“ _Tozier._ ”

That earned him a petulant groan, though it sounded like more of a whine than anything, if Eddie was being honest. “ _What?_ ”

“You know _what_.”

Another groan. “ _No_ , okay, I’m not sleeping here. Probably.” The frown delved into grimace territory, pinched and contemplative as he could be when sleep-deprived. Eddie wondered how long it had been since he’d had a good night of sleep. “Might have to call Ben, though. Otherwise I’m walking, and _that_ ain’t happening.”

“Don’t you have a bike?” A stupid question, really; of course Eddie knew he had a bike, a loud as hell _demon_ of a bike, always roaring into the parking lot behind Eddie’s bumper no matter how many times he shouted at Tozier for speeding so close to him.

“Yeah. I, uh, didn’t take it here. Ben and I came together in the Blueberry.”

Right. The other obnoxious, ostentatious vehicle those two insisted on taking to every crime scene. Now that he had a chance to look around the parking lot, Eddie confirmed neither the _Blueberry_ or the bike were parked by the precinct.

“Told him I’d catch a ride later,” Tozier continued, eyes shut and grubby fingers rubbing at his temples. “I didn’t want him to be late to dinner.”

“And you called your father to pick you up,” Eddie finished, putting the pieces together. He hadn’t quite expected his bored, carpooling high schooler comparison to hold up this well.

“ _Bingo_! Someone tell the man what he’s won! Tell him what he’s won, Bob!” Tozier chuckled at his own impression, landing somewhere between game show host and sleepy homeless man - probably because he began yawning halfway through the last word. “Fuck. But yeah. What’re you still doing here, man? Don’t you have to hit the hay?”

He wasn’t even trying with nicknames at this point, a not-so-subtle process of shooing Eddie away while he focused on scrubbing at his eyes to stay awake. As Tozier’s eyes swung up lazily to meet his, Eddie found himself stiffening in place, limbs tensing both similar and dissimilar to the way he always got when egged into a fight with Tozier. To be fair, though, those were less often fights and more…how did Bev put it? “It’s like watching two stray cats swat at each other while rubbing up against the other’s face. You’re not sure if you should step in or let them have it out until they give in and cuddle.”

Which was ridiculous. Actually, that whole analogy was flat-out stupid. Like Eddie would ever - like _they_ would ever -

Moving on from that trainwreck.

Eddie wanted to will himself to roll his eyes and walk away, get in his car and drive home where he could try to sleep and forget this whole conversation ever happened. There was no reason for him to hang back like this. Tozier was _fine_ , he’d said so himself.

Granted, he was sleep-deprived and likely didn’t know what he was saying - which he also had admitted out loud.

Eddie really didn’t want to be the responsible one here. A small part of him longed to glance behind him, see if anyone else was on their way out for the night.

Tozier looked dead on his feet, though. Truly dead to the world, his little blinks up at Eddie under those thick lashes came slower and slower as he struggled to keep his head lifted off the stone. Maybe he was actually trying to listen to Eddie’s mini-rant about the germs on the steps.

That didn’t ease the twinge of _something_ niggling deep inside his chest at all.

“You need a ride?” The words left Eddie before he could think twice.

Tozier opened his mouth - and then shut it quickly as if he were afraid of what might come out. “What?”

“Do you need a ride? Home?” Eddie swept one hand toward the mostly empty parking lot. “You said you were going to walk otherwise and it’s late, so…”

“I don’t - did I fall asleep?”

“No, you - are you fucking serious? Are you going to make jokes right now? Look, just - if - if you _want_ to, you don’t have to but - ”

“Because I’m having a hard time believing this isn’t one.”

“Can you listen for five seconds? I’m trying to - ”

“I can just walk, it’s fine, man. You don’t have to feel sorry for - ”

“I’m _not_ \- ” Eddie clenched his jaw and stared up at the sky, a scream clawing its way up his tongue as he tried not to shake the man. “I’m _not_ feeling sorry for you, that’s not what this is. For fuck’s sake. I - If you don’t want a ride, just say so.”

“No, I…” He watched Tozier’s throat work, watched him blink again and again, disbelief still written across his features. Eddie was almost hurt; did he really think he’d never offer to something as simple as a ride home? Yes, Eddie’s temper and frustration sometimes got the better of him, but he wasn’t heartless. This wasn’t supposed to be a complicated situation.

Eddie sighed and looked away. “Nevermind. Call someone, all right? Make sure you get home in one piece, you look like some drunk lying about.” He headed down the steps, wincing as he withdrew his keys from his pocket. Shit, that had left some nasty cuts on his palm.

His mother’s voice began to spit and hiss within his head, an inescapable phantom tearing at the corners of his heart with talons because how _could you, Eddie-bear, don’t you know better than this, blood is the fastest way to transmit diseases, I taught better than that, do you want to -_

“Eddie!” He turned, faster than necessary, perhaps hoping to outrun the ghosts in his head, and again almost ate pavement as he spun on the road and came to a halt. Richie Tozier stared down at him from the second-to-last step of the precinct, hands in his pockets, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. Between the dim lighting of the parking lot and the shadows cast over his face by his oversized glasses, Eddie couldn’t make out much more of his expression, but he seemed oddly tentative, fidgeting in place.

“Yeah?”

Tozier stepped down, movements slow but relatively steady for someone still up and at it after very little sleep. Eddie’s hands itched to grab him nonetheless, make sure he didn’t tip over as he drew closer, stopping on the curb next to Eddie.

“You didn’t let me answer you, dipstick.” Tozier’s smile was barely there, a whisper of his usual glee.

Eddie rolled his eyes but he didn’t have it in him anymore to shove at the other man or chew his head off. “Didn’t give me much of an answer, numbnuts.”

Tozier snorted. “ _Numbnuts_ , shit, that really got me. You ought to go into comedy, you know that?”

“Are you trying to waste my time?”

“Trying to ask if you wanna let me in on the carpool, actually.”

Oh. Eddie straightened. “I, uh… If you need one. Yeah.”

Those infuriating lips curled, still small at the edges but growing now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His cheeks burned and he coughed, turning back and beelining for his car so he didn’t have to look at Tozier’s face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were going to.”

“Are _you_ psychic now? I told you we had a connection, Eds,” Tozier cooed.

“You’re insufferable,” Eddie muttered. He unlocked his car, throwing open the door on the driver’s side and let Tozier scramble for his door handle, ignoring the slight smile threatening to overwhelm the scowl on his own face. And maybe he pretended to lock the door on the other man to tease him a little, if only to see him fight back a laugh as he gave Eddie a mock-glower through the window, hands on his hips like astern school teacher.

Eddie didn’t realize until after he dropped an unusually quiet Tozier off at his apartment that for once, the psychic had called him by name.

***

“You heading out for the night, Spaghettio?” Eddie rolled his eyes and fixed Tozier with his best no-nonsense stare as he looked over his shoulder to meet the other’s eyes. Of course, Tozier was never, _could_ never be deterred by such a look it seemed, and he simply smiled down at Eddie, bouncing on his heels. He wore yet another garish Hawaiian shirt, neon orange this time with some sort of flower print. Eddie’s eyeballs were melting just looking at it.

“What’s it to you?”

Tozier held up both hands, eyes widening. “Oof, someone’s grumpy. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Or _under_ \- ”

“Whatever you’re about to say,” Eddie warned, turning his attention back to packing his briefcase, “drop it before I dropkick _you_.”

“I’d like to see you try.” He almost sounded _fond_. Or maybe Eddie was misinterpreting his tone and he was instead being made fun of again. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Maybe that wasn’t fair. Tozier had tapered off on jokes for a time after they’d caught Bowers, after Eddie plucked up his courage to ask Tozier on a date - a poor decision, a _stupid_ decision - and utterly humiliated himself. This was just another charade of his, jumping back into teasing and poking fun at the easiest target to rile up.

It still made his stomach turn over thinking about it.

“So, you heading home?” Tozier tried again. He kept rocking on his heels, Eddie could see him out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re the _psychic_ , you tell me,” Eddie said, saccharine sweet as he gave Tozier an unimpressed look.

“Got room for two?”

Eddie stopped, his briefcase swinging at his side. “What.”

Tozier spread his hands like he was attempting jazz hands, grin stretching far too wide, too thin to be genuine. “Ben’s hanging around to talk to Bill about some book, said I could head on back. You available to give an old pal a ride?”

“You have a bike. And a car,” Eddie added when his initial response came quick, immediate. He was having a difficult time processing what was happening. “We already did this the other night.”

“And I kind of need to get home again?”

“You leave the stove on or something?”

“Well, _The Bachelor’s_ going to be on in an hour, so - “

“Oh my _god_ ,” Eddie groaned, pinching the skin between his brows. “ _Fine_. Let’s go.”

The grin faltered. Eddie nudged him in the side when Tozier didn’t move right away, still staring at him, and couldn’t help but sigh as Tozier sprang back to life, starting down the hall and launching into some story about pineapple upside-down pancakes he’d had with Ben earlier. Again with the walls, Eddie mused, and again with pretending. At least the dark bags under his eyes were beginning to fade.

***

Those drives became a strange routine for the two of them. They didn’t happen every day, of course, but once a week or so, Eddie found himself greeted outside the precinct by Tozier, sometimes hanging on the steps, sometimes leaning against Eddie’s red Ford Fusion with a shit-eating smirk that he _knew_ would piss Eddie off. They still saw each other for cases ( _unfortunately_ , Eddie grumbled) and around Derry, but every now and then, he’d find Tozier pantsing around outside and know he’d either forgotten his bike or just needed a ride home.

It wasn’t weird. Eddie refused to make it weird.

Even if Ben, Bill, and even the chief had noticed something was up, eyebrows raising as he passed them to follow Tozier out to his car. He swore Mike whispered to Bill in the morgue the other day, rings rubbing against one another as Mike ducked his head and thumbed over his husband’s knuckles, “Is this a new _thing_ , or am I late to the party?”

It wasn’t _weird_.

“It’s a little weird,” Bev said, baldly failing to hide a smile as Eddie glared at her over her desk. Back at work for two days and his partner was already back to pushing his buttons.

He’d missed Bev, though. He could tell everyone had, including the chief. Someone - he suspected Ben - had covered her desk in sunflowers when she walked in the first day back, and Eddie had never seen her face light up that shade of pink before.

(And who knows, maybe Eddie had teamed up with Bill to visit Bev’s temp office and send her the files for his last case so she’d still feel involved and maybe want to jump back into her old job sooner instead of sitting around at a desk. Not that anyone could prove that.)

“I’m only saying,” Bev leaned back in her chair, allowing the front legs to lift a few inches off the ground while she held Eddie’s gaze, a surprisingly effective intimidation tactic, “it’s kinda sweet but also weird that you’re giving Richie rides home. You don’t even live near each other, right?”

“He’s an idiot who sometimes forgets his bike,” Eddie muttered, folding his arms over his chest. Bev gave him a _look_ and he glared harder. It wasn’t a defensive action, fuck _off_. “I’m being a good upstanding citizen or whatever. I only told you because I knew you’d make a big _deal_ out of it.”

“I’m not the one making it a big deal.”

“Really? Says the person who hasn’t started looking up those names for the case Uris just gave us?”

Bev maintained his gaze for a moment or two longer before breaking, shaking her head as she flipped open the file Eddie had been dropping off on her desk before she _ambushed him_ with this interrogation. “Uh huh. Whatever you say.”

“Uh, Eddie?” Ben poked his head around the corner, his smile sheepish. “Richie told me to tell you that he needs your car for a break in your case and you’re welcome to tag along if you want.”

“A break in _my_ \- wait, he _what?_ ” Eddie grabbed his jacket and ignored Beverly’s snickering as he bolted down the hall, feeling in his pockets for his keys only to find them empty. Of course, the idiot took his keys, _of course_.

He didn’t care what Tozier or Ben said, he was _not_ letting them drive his car when they’d gotten into accidents during previous cases, upstanding citizen or not.

(Tozier wasn’t lying about solving the case, unfortunately, and though Eddie was sore about bickering the whole way to the killer’s house, he granted Tozier a win this once when he saw how bright his grin was, genuine for the first time in a long while and wider than he’d ever seen it. So, Eddie didn’t say a word when he drove Tozier home that night, even if his hands itched the whole drive.)

***

Tozier kept lingering at the end of long nights for Eddie to drive him home. Bev started to shake off her hesitance about getting back into cases so soon and Ben hovered more and more around her desk before she left for the night. With their heads bent close together over case files, hands brushing, Eddie wondered how they could be more obvious, yet neither seemed to make a move. Not as far as he knew, that is. He assumed Bev would tell him, since it’d taken a lot for her to admit to Eddie that she _did_ feel something for Ben, but after what happened with Bowers and then Pennywise, he didn’t want to seem nosy. She was just getting back on her feet, and while their teasing was all fun and games, the last thing he wanted was to push her away.

The more time and space he tried to give Bev, though, the more Eddie began realizing that perhaps she’d been right about the situation with Tozier being weird.

He wasn’t uncomfortable with it! Really. The problem stemmed more from Eddie feeling…

Well, the opposite of uncomfortable.

It wasn’t Tozier’s - _Richie’s_ , he conceded reluctantly, they’d known each other for years now, well enough to dismiss formalities, especially when _Richie_ had been doing so since day one - fault. Much as he liked to snipe back in times of frustration, the fault here was no one but Eddie’s. Namely because now that his underlying concern for the slowly ebbing bags under Richie’s eyes and his brightening mood were disappearing little by little, this left nothing else for him to focus on outside of Richie’s constant array of jokes.

And the calico cat-shaped balloon declaring _Get well!_ in big letters that Richie’d tied to Bev’s chair the other week when she sprained her wrist.

And the ragdoll monkey he’d watched Richie sneak into Chief Uris’s office with a sticky note matching his gaudy yellow shirt, adorned with all sorts of fruits Eddie didn’t think he could name, that read _For little Urine!_

(Stan Uris wasn’t a particularly loud man, but the yell he let out to call Richie into his office that afternoon had startled Bill so bad he spilled a mountain of paperwork down the length of the hall. At least Patty had appreciated the monkey.)

Eddie’d really thought he put these feelings behind him. He could be casual around Richie! He’d been casual enough for years before fucking up after the Bowers incident. And that time Richie called him after he was kidnapped and bleeding to death and whispered into the receiver, _I love you_ \- only to then murmur a goodbye to his actual boyfriend at the time. Eddie still didn’t remember said boyfriend’s name, honestly, but at least the guy’d stopped hanging around after _he_ got kidnapped too.

Anyway.

Eddie was a casual, very subtle, normal guy. Being around Richie wasn’t _hard_ , per se. But Richie’s _everything_ made the process of distancing himself infuriating.

The drives home were the worst of the problem. Richie was incapable of staying quiet for long, so he often talked to pass the time, needling at Eddie just to keep him engaged with the conversation get a rise out of him. He suspected part of it had to do with Richie trying to keep him awake on the drives as well, but he couldn’t prove it.

And then there were the long nights, dreary from a stressful case or general lack of sleep, where the pair didn’t say a word, eyes darting between the streets ahead and their laps. Eddie rather liked silence, but something about _this_ silence from Richie - Richie who never remained quiet for more than a minute or two, Richie whose laugh had startled him awake at his desk more often than he would admit, Richie who never looked quite so wound up or stretched thin until the goddamn Pennywise case - made him want to slam on the brakes and demand a joke, a laugh, _anything_ so he didn’t tear his hair out. Eddie was used to irrational urges, and did his best to control them for his own sake and his peers, but nothing set his blood on fire quite like Richie Tozier.

It reminded him of the precinct, Richie paling by the minute, allowing Ben to anchor him, his eyes dazed and fixed on the phone on the table, the clown taunting them without mercy.

It reminded him of his whisper over Eddie’s phone, soft, crackling in his ear as he murmured a goodbye and gave his love to someone who wasn’t Eddie, perhaps not remembering or caring that he could still shatter hearts while bleeding out.

It reminded him of the look on his face at the drive-in cinema after arresting Bowers, sad smiles all around as Eddie floundered on the rocks of his short-lived bout of bravery and fled the scene so he could salvage one of their nights, could salvage _someone’s_ date, even if it wasn’t Eddie’s in the end.

Two weeks after Beverly came back to work, Eddie pulled to a stop in front of Richie’s apartment complex, his throat dry from disuse as he cleared it and parked the car. Richie didn’t budge, his head leaning against the window, eyes closed.

Eddie nudged his shoulder. He couldn’t tell if Richie was actually asleep or faking it; he’d gotten spooked a couple of times when the other man decided to whip around at the speed of light, a piercing shriek ringing out before it was replaced by _Eddie_ yelling and Richie’s cackling. “Tozier. We’re here.”

“Mmm.”

“We’re here,” Eddie repeated. “Seriously, wake up, moron.” He pinched the bare skin on Richie’s neck and snorted when Richie yelped. The psychic cracked open one eye and pouted, eyes bugging up at Eddie as he kept his cheek smushed against the glass. The bags under his eyes stood stark against his skin in the yellowed streetlights, purpling and blending in with his bright eyes. Eddie wondered if he’d gotten enough sleep or if the late nights were getting to him again. _Not that he does much real police work_ , a sliver of Eddie’s brain hissed, still caught in the usual antagonistic routine between the two of them.

“You’re evil,” Richie grumbled, his voice rough as he squinted at Eddie. One of his hands raised, a bit shaky, to jab a finger into Eddie’s cheek, as if they were kindergarteners trying to shove each other into submission, perhaps to steal a toy clutched in tiny fists. “Anyone ever tell you that? Eeeeevil, Kaspbrak.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were drunk,” Eddie pointed out. He willed himself with all his might not to smile.

“‘M not. Just dumb.” Richie’s eyes narrowed further, mere slits. He could barely see his pupils. “Never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Anyone tell you you’re evil?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “My ex-wife, I dunno.”

Somehow _that_ got Richie wheezing. He threw his head back, almost smacking the window with his skull as he burst into actual _giggles_. He dropped his hand - Eddie had half-forgotten it was there and his cheeks flushed once he noticed its absence - and wiped at his eyes. “Holy _shit_! Eds gets off a good one! So much funnier than me, jeez.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, dick.”

“S’my name.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie glanced past him out of the passenger window. “Are you going to sit in my car forever, sweating on my leather seats, or are you going to get out? Maybe get some real sleep?”

“Sleeping just fine here, baby.”

That - hmm. Eddie did _not_ gape for a moment. No one could fucking prove it if he did. Which he did _not._ “Richard.”

Richie winced. “No. No, not that.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Really? That’s where you draw the line? Your name?”

“Only my dad calls me...” Richie trailed off, but Eddie thought he understood, laughter leaving him as abruptly as it’d come when he saw how taut the muscles in Richie’s jaw were now, mood turning sullen the longer he gazed off into memories Eddie couldn’t see. Eddie patted his shoulder to get him to meet his eyes, forcing a smile he was sure the other man saw right through.

“It’s fine. You going to get out, though? I meant what I said about sleeping. You look like hell.”

“An’ you look like a million bucks as always.”

“ _Tozier_.”

Richie’s cheek twitched. Maybe a smile, maybe a frown. “Back to formalities, huh? Guess this means we can’t cuddle?”

 _You can’t just say shit like that,_ Eddie wanted to snap. _You can’t._

Instead, he breathed out through his nose and pushed Richie’s shoulder harder. “Hard to cuddle with seatbelts on,” he said, pushing for teasing and falling short.

“We could manage.” Those dark eyes were slipping closed again, one hand squirming up to meet Eddie’s on his shoulder. His fingers tapped the soft flesh on the side of Eddie’s hand, smoothing over his skin after every other frenzied beat. “You’re not so bad.”

“Gee, thanks. What a ringing endorsement.”

“Like it when you’re mean,” Richie murmured. He was definitely smiling now, the same one Eddie swore he wore the first night on the steps of the precinct, nervous and eager to hop in his car. “All prickly and - and like a cactus. But you’re not bad. You know that, yeah? You’re more of a teddy bear. Not as big as Ben, though.”

“You just called compared me to a teddy bear and a cactus in the same sentence. I think it’s time for bed.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Eddie was beginning to near the end of his patience, endearing as sleepy Richie was. “Well, you need to.”

“Nah.”

“This isn’t funny, it’s not some game - ”

“Kind of a fun one.”

“I - what - _no_ , how is this fun? I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to fucking work. Aren’t you always going on about how you’re ‘on top of your game’ and flouncing around - ”

“Big words.”

“They’re _not_ \- you should know it’s not good for you to skip sleep, it messes up your circadian rhythms. Who knows how long yours have been fucked up but - ”

“I thought she was dead,” Richie whispered out of the blue, and Eddie’s rant died on his tongue, shriveled up until they were dust mites drifting to the floor of the car. Richie’s eyes opened after a long moment, his expression oddly sober. He didn’t say anything more, just stared back at Eddie.

“What are you - are you trying to distract me or...” Eddie swallowed. “Are you - ”

“I thought she was dead, yeah?” If he’d thought that dulled, zoned out haze was unsettling, this was worse. This dead-eyed facade cracking before him, a lopsided smile painting his features. “He - the fucking - you heard the call. You saw her. It was close, wasn’t it?”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. “Don’t - ”

“I got the pier and all I could think was _she’s dead, it got her, she’s dead_ , and then there was the fucking _clown_ ,” his voice cracked alongside the chasms opening across his flesh, cheeks thrown wide as his fingers trembled on top of Eddie’s, “and all it did was _smile_. Like it was all a joke, like we’d go down to the bar, have a few beers and some laughs afterward. Fucking - I can’t... I _can’t_ \- ”

“I was petrified,” Eddie said, and even as Richie’s eyes swung up to meet his, even though there was no one around to see him unbuckle his seatbelt and lean in, he kept his voice low and steady, the way Lou would whenever he started hyperventilating. “I was scared too, running up those stairs with Ben, trying to get to her. We were - it was close.” Richie let out a small noise and he squeezed his shoulder. “But she’s okay. She’s safe. And you - you got, uh...”

Richie snorted. “Carter?”

 _Dumb name,_ Eddie thought before shoving aside that petty notion. “Yeah. You got him, he’s safe now too. And we’re going to get the goddamn clown too. I promise.”

“The worst part,” Richie said, blinking hard, something strange falling across his brow, dragging itself down his features alongside the clutches of drowsiness, “is he was right. There are worse things I could lose.”

Eddie hesitated. Had he been withholding something about the encounter with the clown from them? Had there been a threat? Richie knew better than to pretend he could handle himself against a serial killer outside of riddles and clues, he hoped. “What are you talking about?”

But Richie just shook his head, eyes drooping as his fingers lazily wound their way over Eddie’s. He waited in case Richie needed a moment, but aside from the pounding of his heart in his ears, nothing else came.

“I think you should sleep,” Eddie said when a minute passed in silence. He gentled his tone as he watched Richie’s shoulders draw in, mouth screwing up into a firm line. “Do you need me to walk you up?”

“Don’t want to.”

“Want to, what?”

Richie’s hand tightened on his, still tracing every wrinkle and callous with his thumb. The other hand flexed, an almost amusing aborted gesture that could’ve been a weak attempt at grabby hands toward Eddie. It was both sincere and insincere at the same time and Eddie had to avert his eyes so he didn’t laugh.

“You’re so good,” Richie said. His heart missed a beat and those tapping, tracing, roaming fingers picked up the tempo where Eddie left off. “Too good, Eddie.”

“Richie...”

Then Richie looked at him and that lackadaisical, cheery grin was back, a puzzle piece slotted into place. The hand slid up Eddie’s arm and patted his shoulder. The loss of contact against bare skin branded his veins, his bones, his heart slamming too fast in his chest.

“Way too good for a cuddle party, after all, huh? Gotta loosen up if you ever want to get some snuggles in the near future. How’re you so stiff? Or is it those hard as Dwayne ‘The Rock’ - ”

“Beep beep,” Eddie shot back without a second thought, instinct alone saving him. Richie laughed but he was sliding back into that half-asleep haze again, exhaustion taking hold.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. No need to tell me twice, won’t waste your time anymore, Eds.” He attempted a wink and failed spectacularly. Eddie wanted to punch him. He wanted to kiss the skin under his squinty left eye. “I’ll get out of your hair so you can head on back, catch up on good old _Bachelor_.”

“I don’t watch that show.”

“Then why do you have all of last season recorded on your DVR?” Richie asked innocently.

“I don’t - did _you_ \- ”

“Look at the _time_ , thanks for the ride and chat!” Richie was unbuckling his seatbelt and out the passenger side in an instant, delight blatant as he shot Eddie the widest grin. He couldn’t even tell if it was genuine at this point, wasn’t sure if he cared.

“Tozier, I _swear_ \- ”

“What, no goodbye kiss?” Richie tilted his head and rested a hand on the car door.“And here I thought we’d grown closer after all that.”

Eddie bit back the urge to lunge over like a child, swat at his chest, maybe swear revenge or -

It was fine. He’d just ask Ben to record all of _American Duos_ next time he visited Richie’s place. That’d show the little shit. Yeah.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” Richie cooed, his face against the edge of the car door. Disgusting, truly. All those germs and the dirt that must’ve been collecting on his skin, not to mention the car hadn’t been washed in a month and his glasses were already knocked partway off his nose -

Eddie really, really loved him.

The revelation should’ve blown him off his feet, knocked him backward and spiraling down a rabbit hole of panic and terror that would’ve sent even Pennywise running for his miserable life, squeezed his insides until they burst.

Instead, Eddie smiled softly, murmured, “Goodnight, Richie,” and pulled the passenger door shut himself. He didn’t dare look over at Richie’s face as he pulled out of the parking lot, pretended he didn’t care and he didn’t mind if Richie forgot the whole conversation come morning when he actually (hopefully) got to sleep.

If Richie could pretend he was fine, so could Eddie. It wasn’t difficult, after all.

Eddie was excellent at playing pretend.

**Author's Note:**

> I do most of my scary clown nonsense screaming at my twitter **@scarletscold**. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


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